


And I See

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [46]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 46: Oval.  The morning after, hotel in the middle of nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I See

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Sam studied the note on the table, wondering how he’d managed to sleep through Dean getting up and opening the door, not to mention showering and dressing. He snorted, examining his brother’s neat scrawl.

 _S – manager says diner down the road’s open, back in an hour w/ food. D._

“And when, you idiot, did you leave?” The question echoes around the empty room, and Sam sighs and glances at the clock. He’ll give Dean 45 before he calls. Another sigh and he’s climbing into the steaming shower, yelping as the surprisingly hard spray strikes his ass. He cranes his neck over his shoulder to look. Bruises. Great. He tries to examine them, but the mirror in the bathroom is an old-fashioned oval, and he can’t see much. Yet another sigh and he’s throwing himself across the bed on his stomach, to where he can stare at the clock.

He’s five minutes out from grabbing his cell, in the middle of trying to decide whether to call Dean and bitch, or call Dad and tattle, because he’s just more aggravated by the minute, and Dean walks in the door in a flood of sunlight, whistling.

“We,” he says in a voice that’s nearly chipper, “will be checking out at two PM, when the road down the mountain is clear. Then, when we hit the next cell tower range, we will call Dad and tell him that Colorado is the ass end of nowhere and full of crazy people, not crazy ghosts.”

Sam stares. “Crazy people,” he says hesitantly.

“The hunt? Yeah. No activity since the staties made an arrest the night we checked in, whole thing was a hoax.”

Sam’s not sure whether to be frustrated or relieved. All those damn nights out in the rain, observing, and late nights researching and –

“Dude. Stop thinking so loud. Flapjacks and sausage.”

That stops Sam’s thoughts immediately, and judging by the fact that Dean’s got the bag wrapped in a towel, it’s gonna be warm, and he can SMELL the maple syrup, and it’s the real kind and-

Dean laughs, and simply steers the boy to the table, sits him down and puts a fork in his hand before opening the container. Sam’s in ecstasy shortly after, and Dean’s not slouching on joining him. It isn’t until they’re finished that Sam’s eyes widen and he fidgets, and then Dean’s laughing, because he knows why. He caught a good look at Sam’s ass when he got up.

Sam can’t quite manage a sulk, because damn, he’s full for once, and it WAS a good start to the morning, and he doesn’t resist when Dean leads him over to the bed, pushes him down. He does have minor objections to the fact that Dean then turns around and cleans up the mess of the meal, and shoves their research into Sam’s backpack, effectively making sure that part of their gear is packed. Sam rolls to his side and does his part, shoving clothes into duffels and laundry bags – they’re gonna need to do laundry again, soon, dammit. Dean gives him a surprised look when he comes out of the bathroom with both of their kits.

“Thought you’d want some more rest.”

“I’m good,” Sam replies, and the unspoken words are loud. I just don’t want to sit when I don’t have to. Dean gives the rest of the room the age old scan, looking to see if there’s anything not in the series of five bags lined up next to the door – a duffel apiece, laundry, weapons, and research. With the police presence in the area, they’ve kept it to a minimum. Dean digs in his bag for a minute, and then flops down on the bed next to Sam.

“Take your pants down.” His request is met by Sam’s best horrified puppy look, and he has to try hard not to laugh when Sam speaks, sounding like a child.

“I’m not bad!”

Dean hopes that Sam does not realize that if he ever tries that when he HAS been bad, Dean will probably give in.

“No, you’re not. Now take your pants down.” He puts a little stern no-nonsense into his tone on the second sentence, and Sam – are his eyes full of tears? Never mind, if they are, he’s ignoring it. He waits a full sixty seconds. “Sam.” That one had hints of dad in it, and Sam slowly reaches to unbutton his jeans and slide them and the silk boxers he’s got underneath down. Dean reaches over and tugs them down a little further, and Sam buries his head in his arms.

Dean squirts a generous amount of arnica cream into his hand and begins to very gently work it into the reddened, lightly bruised ass. Sam finally takes a breath, and Dean sees him rub his eyes across his flannel sleeve before he peeks back at the older boy curiously. Dean doesn’t usually use the arnica, not when Sam’s gotten a spanking that’s for punishment, though last night counted for both punishment and release. Dean relents under the intense gaze.

“We’re gonna be driving for hours, Sam, I don’t want to be stopping much. We need to get in touch with Dad, and if we have to rush a rondezvous…”

Sam nods, understands. He wiggles a little under Dean’s touch, on the parts that aren’t as sore it feels awfully tempting. Dean simply finishes rubbing the bruise ointment into the last spot, and lightly swats the red bottom. Sam yips, and gives him a pitiful look, and then Dean’s pulling up his pants. He leaves the buttons undone, and takes the boy into his arms, kissing him, settling the heavy weight of Sam close to him.

“We’ve got an hour,” he says. “Your choice.”

Sam hears the meaning behind that. We can have a quickie, and shower again, or we can wait until we’re not in a hurry. He thinks about it, and snuggles into Dean. If he can wrangle some cuddling out of his brother, the sex can wait. Besides, he’s still sore, and when he wakes an hour later, his ass a little less achy, and Dean’s lips on his he’s perfectly satisfied with the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Bette Midler - One More Round


End file.
